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Book: The surface
Chapter title: prison
Things never turn out they are supposed to do they. By now i was supposed to me married and touring the beautiful southern crystal field. I remember hearing about those field. How they would glisten like diamond shattered and strewn across the cavern ceilings. But things don't turn out how they are supposed to.
Now i am living like a stinking rat covered in my own filth. My hair disgusting and filled with the small insect that inhabit these prison caverns. I used to have my brown hair like a true warrior, but now it is long and oily from the inconsistent washing. I can hardly remember what color my eyes were being in these caverns would do that to you they say. At least i have not gone insane moaning in the night. The screaming filling ever fiber of your being tearing away at all the humanity you have left ,trying to wretch it away from you.
They were green, my eye were green. Maybe they to have changed under the sentry of these ever glowing crystals. The crystals are also just a mind game. You can lose track of time down here. Days run into week, weeks run into months, months to years. At least those grubs back in the city had no longer shown after they had laid to rest. There he could sleep, here I was always fitful full of dreams of the horrors he had had to endure in the terrifying place.
But there is no news on dwelling on what was that is how you went insane in this place. Of course what was he supposed to think about. My dead fiance, my life time sentence! I looked at his hands roughed and cracked from his days as a warrior. The endless days of practice, working your fingers till they bled. His skin did not have the well kept luster it used to have. It was wrinkled and papery, his nail long and cracked down the middle.
My nail reminded him of his wife. How long and slander her fingers were how her nail here long and painted with those expansive paints she loved so much. I chuckled to himself to himself at the memory, but his chuckles dissolved into sobs as he remembered his wife in the last moment of her life, so scared, so helpless.
I tore himself away from that memory I would just revisit it again in the night so why should my waking moment have to relive it to. He looked to the wall where he recorded how long he ad been here. It was more of a habit now than actually recording. It was good to have a routine It kept you sain. you felt like you have a purpose. How many marks were they he wondered. The small white lines nearly covered the wall, they were scratched there by a small rock he had found in his cell. It was small and white rough around the edges. Some day he would just sit there and run his hands across it admiring its texture. It seemed funny now, but I had even given it a name. Walter I called it.
It was about time to go to sleep. I did not want to sleep on the stinking pile of raconto leaves they used and bed and bathroom. But it was his only choice, and better that than nothing. I got up from the corner in which he was sitting and sat down on the leaves. I felt something skitter over his foot. I did not care though it was probably just one of those small orange scorpions that infested the raconto leaves. Then he say the little guy standing in a battle stance by his foot. His tail high threatening. The little one felt no fear of course neither did I. I smashed the small one with the toe of my foot. The stinger pressed into the sole of my foot. It drew blood. It was strangely comforting to see it. At least it proved that he was still alive.
I laid down. It was time to let the night keep him once more. Maybe tonight I won't dream of her, although i know i will. I slowly drifted off, another day in this cell. Another day in the life of